


Borrowed Time

by priscilladm



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Royai - Freeform, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:54:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25704703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/priscilladm/pseuds/priscilladm
Summary: Her reasons for caring about him are as plentiful as there are stars in the sky.(This is seriously just 1800 words of not-super-graphic smut.)
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Borrowed Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is intended to fit into whatever part of the timeline the reader sees fit—because sometimes we really want those two to have an established secret relationship, but sometimes we want them to confront their feelings after the Promised Day, and both of these are equally valid. Honestly, I don’t even really know if this is their first time or their 500th time, and that feels ok with me.

This moment together is borrowed time.

It’s Roy who first approaches, gently and tenderly. He brushes her bangs away from her eyes to peer into them, seemingly captivated by the brightness that lay within. Something about this feels so perfect and so wrong at the exact same time.

He leans in to kiss her, and at first it’s gentle and sweet, a way to say hello. He has no idea how her lips are so unbelievably soft and responsive to him. In fact, he has no idea how someone like her would deign to be with someone like him, but he doesn’t question this and he knows not to push his luck by wondering too much.

To those who casually know either of them, softness isn't something in their wheelhouse. To those who know them best, softness is what drives them at their very core.

It’s for this reason that Riza easily melts under his touch. No one knows—and most likely no one could ever know—but if anyone ever asks her why this feels so good, she wouldn’t have enough words. Her reasons for caring about him are as plentiful as there are stars in the sky.

She’s aware of the drawbacks that others see in him. People think he is too optimistic, too ambitious, too young. She doesn’t care. She lives her life cautiously and methodically, and she wishes that sometimes he could be more calculated too. He can be impulsive, much like the flame that she knows exists deep within him, and sometimes that leads to risks. Risks like this.

But she kisses him back with intense longing and desire, because for once in her life, she feels fine with not being cautious. She might actually even _enjoy_ not being cautious.

Just like she can’t explain why she follows him, she can’t explain their bond. It transcends words, written or spoken. Words on a page or spoken from their mouths couldn’t even come close to what they’ve gone through and what they continue to face. This bond both protects them and places them in constant danger. Everything in their life is an oxymoron, and their lives are two sides of the same coin.

His first kiss may have been gentle, but he breaks away and takes a quick glance at her face before cupping it in his hands and bringing her back in for more kisses—this time with passion and urgency. They don’t have forever, no matter how much they wish they did; they don’t even know if they’ll have tomorrow, together or separate.

She hooks her arms around him and takes the back of his head in her hands, pressing her fingertips on his scalp. He breaks away again and presses kisses along her jaw and neck and collarbone. She begins to sigh in pleasure, riding out the balance between ticklishness and heightened arousal. His breath dances along the skin on the back of her neck, sending shivers down her body and causing the hair on her arms to stand up. She realizes she is somehow both breathing heavily and not breathing at all, entranced by the feel of his mouth along her body.

He wants to kiss her everywhere, but there isn’t enough time for him to pay attention to her in the ways he knows she deserves. So instead he kisses whatever parts of her skin aren’t covered by her shirt, and it seems like they both understand that this will do, it still feels good. They know that none of their moments are ever promised, but they hope that if they see any more days, they’ll be able to see more of each other—both in this way and countless others, too.

A snapping sound fills the air for just a moment, and Roy realizes she has unclasped her bra. Really, he wants to toss off both her shirt and bra, to see her and fully appreciate her with nothing in his way, but he’ll settle for her unspoken invitation to touch. He desperately reaches his hands under the front of her shirt to grasp her breasts, moving them under the fabric of the bra before tracing one of her nipples with his finger. This causes her to push her chest closer to him, and he hopes that means she likes this.

He pulls at the hem of the long skirt she’s wearing, not to take it off, but to find his way under the fabric. In reality he wants to pull this off too. He’s grateful that she opts for comfort and convenience, not just because of this moment, but because he knows that she is the most practical person he will ever know. It’s one of the many things that makes her who she is.

Riza is still as breathless at his touch as before, moreso now that it has moved down under her skirt. She would love for him to kiss her intimately at his destination on her body but she is still deeply aroused nonetheless by his hand traveling quickly up her thighs. His fingers sneak under her undergarments and he rubs her just firmly enough to please her while keeping his touch light enough to make her want more. She hikes one leg up to his torso, giving him a different angle and better access to what lay under her clothing, as she sighs heavily and warmly onto his neck.

There’s something different about the feeling of pleasure rocking throughout her entire body and soul. She feels just as hot as fire but also as grounded as the earth, knowing that there is more to this than just their brimming lust for each other’s bodies. They’ve been through too much for it to just be this.

Her hips shift forward as she feels him slip a finger inside her wet folds, gauging whether or not she wants him. She can’t stand it, that she gets to receive this gift from him but that she has yet to be able to touch him, and so she unbuckles his belt and unbuttons the top of his trousers before lightly grazing the outline of his arousal with her fingernails.

This sets him alight and he grunts in apparent pleasure at her touch. They never have to say a word to each other and somehow they know. She unzips his pants and pulls them down, reaching to pull him out out of his boxers and grasping him in the palm of her hand. She wishes she had more time, but as she pumps up and down, feeling him stiffen under her, she knows this still feels good for him despite her greed. One moment seems to feel particularly good, as he removes his finger from her and moans at a volume bordering on dangerous. She plants a kiss on his cheek and shushes him softly in his ear. They can’t be too loud.

Without a word, they know their moment has come. With one hand she shifts her undergarments aside so that they no longer block her entrance, and with the other hand she gathers her skirt up from the hem to her waist. The air is thick with their desire, and he presses his arousal against her entrance impatiently. She shifts her hips up as he places his hands on her bottom to lift her. They’re both overcome with pleasure as he fills her up, and they both let out hoarse groans in response.

She wraps her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he continues to move within her. His speed is perfect: it’s slow enough to still feel gentle but fast enough that it communicates urgency. There’s only so much that he can move—there’s not enough time for him to remove his pants, to undress her, to give this to her in the ways that they know they both want. They know this.

Her head rests in the space where his shoulder meets his neck, because this is the most comfortable spot for her in their current position. She wants to kiss him as he continues his thrusts, but she doesn’t want to break their rhythm. Every movement feels perfect, she can’t jeopardize this. She can’t get lost in her thoughts, this feels too good.

She feels his fingertips begin to dig into the flesh of her ass in unison with the pattern of his heavy groans. She turns her head ever so slightly and nibbles gently on his earlobe, encouraging him to continue. Her breath on his skin feels like the spark necessary to cause a flame, but even though his body is so close, in his mind he’s not ready quite yet, because this won’t feel right if only one of them gets to fully enjoy.

Her walls pulse around him and she wants to cry out from the intense pleasure rocking her body, but she knows she can’t give away what they’re doing. She thinks about whispering something in his ear, but she doesn’t even know what to call him when they are alone having a normal conversation, so she quickly decides against this. Instead she focuses on his pleasure nonverbally, tracing her tongue along his neck. He hums softly, and the sound surprises them both for a moment. Something about it feels oddly gentle, in sharp contrast to the intensity of their movements together.

This gentleness doesn’t last long. Her own wave of pleasure seems to encourage him as his thrusts pick up in pace and urgency, and he warns her that he is approaching his breaking point. She unravels her legs and stands up to face him, and he pulls out to spill his seed on her inner thigh. They know what mistakes they can afford to make versus what they absolutely cannot. Still, she hopes if there’s a future for them, that they can do this in many other permutations.

She pulls a handkerchief from the pocket of her skirt and uses it to wipe away the evidence of their union before adjusting her undergarment. This sight isn’t particularly beautiful or romantic, and she’s keenly aware of this, but she also knows that this is simply how things are.

Her skirt has a few wrinkles, but it isn’t torn. She feels her heartbeat start to slow down again, and though she’s still a little sticky and sweaty under her skirt, her face doesn’t feel the same level of heat. She quickly secures her breasts into her bra before clasping it back into place along her back.

Roy retrieves a handkerchief from his jacket and quickly wipes away what remains on him from their deed, similar to what she has just done, before putting it back in the pocket from whence it came. He really wants to hold her closely, to be able to look into her eyes and share this moment together, but he knows that’s not a possibility.

The end to this is unceremonious, but it isn’t out of lack of want.

There’s simply not enough time.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a huge challenge because I really wanted to try two different things in one go, a) present tense and b) no dialogue. Not sure how I did but either way, all I care about at the end of the day is these two being together in as many ways as possible. No one can convince me otherwise.


End file.
